


Atonement in Blue Lace

by BananaStickers



Series: Too Much (Just Isn't Enough) [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Apologies, Feminization, Lingerie, M/M, Prostitution Roleplay, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26858749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaStickers/pseuds/BananaStickers
Summary: Apologies can be offered in a lot of ways.  A sincere "I'm sorry"; a carefully-crafted note; a thoughtful gift.Kris receives his apology in baby blue thigh-high stockings.
Relationships: Brian Dumoulin/Conor Sheary, Brian Dumoulin/Kris Letang, Sidney Crosby/Kris Letang
Series: Too Much (Just Isn't Enough) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790458
Comments: 21
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You will probably want to read the first fics in the series, although if you're just here for wanton cross-dressing porn, you can skip right to chapter 2 (to be posted soon!).

Conor’s halfway through his first cup of coffee, staring blearily at his phone, when the text comes through from Kayla. It’s not unusual to hear from her; she is Brian’s wife and full-time Dom, and Conor is Dumo’s team Dom, so they have to work together, and they have a pretty good rapport at this point. It _is_ unusual to hear from her this early, however. Like Conor, she is not a morning person, and Brian usually waits on her hand and foot throughout breakfast until she’s a little more awake. _Watch Brian today please_ , her text says. _He’s taking last night hard. The thing with Tanger._

_Ah yeah,_ Conor texts back. _Got it._

_This morning was tough. Almost considered giving him an orgasm to calm him down._

_Whoa,_ Conor replies, because that’s a big deal; Brian is locked up during the entire season. He only gets orgasms during the summer. _I’ll keep you updated._

_Thanks :) :)_

“Hmm,” Conor says, taking another sip of his coffee. He’s not sure what changed; after Brian’s clinginess in the locker room last night, he’d brought him back home, and fucked his mouth while Kayla pegged him from behind. Having both his Doms using him together has never failed to calm him before.

Jordan yawns around her own cup of coffee, scratching a spot underneath her collar. “What’s up?” she asks sleepily from across the table. “You look concerned.”

“Dumo’s apparently still having some issues.”

“Oh.” She sits up, frowning. “He was pretty chill when we left last night. I didn’t see any issues during aftercare.”

“I know. It’s weird, right?”

“Right. Oh, by the way, might I remind you, _Sir - “_

“I know, I know,” Conor says with a grin. The Dumoulins are neighbors, which makes it easy and convenient to get together with them; in addition to what they did to Brian, Conor also brought his wife over, forced her to watch and play with herself without bringing her to orgasm. She still hasn’t gotten one. “Be a good girl and I’ll give you two later today.”

“I’m always a good girl,” she says, giving him a cheeky wink, and they both laugh. Brian and Jordan are very different types of subs, and to be able to have both of them...well, Conor feels very lucky most days that he’s back with the Penguins.

Brian’s already at his stall nursing a protein shake when Conor gets in. He’s using the big straw, the one that subs use when they want to suck on something to calm themselves, and that’s Conor’s first indication that something might be wrong. “Dumo,” he says, sitting down next to Brian. “Hey, bud. How are you?”

“I’m okay, I think. I dunno, just waiting for Sid. I wanna know how Tanger is doing.” He indicates the straw. “Kayla wanted me to use it.”

“I think that’s a good idea, based on what she told me this morning.”

Brian shrugs. “I’m feeling a little off, but nothing I haven’t felt before. Like I said, when Sid - oh.”

Practically on cue, Sid walks into the locker room, looking tired but calm. “My ears must be burning. What about me?” he asks.

Brian leans forward. “Tanger…?”

“He’s at home, he’s got the day off to recuperate. He’s fine, though. Sore ass but doing okay otherwise.” Sid must get that something is off too, because he frowns and steps forward, gently tangling his fingers through Brian’s curls. “How are you feeling, Dumo?”

“Just a little off, is all.” Brian sighs at the hand in his hair, relaxing just a little bit. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be good.”

“You sure?”

“Hell yeah.” Brian smiles up at Sid, but to Conor’s eyes, it looks a little forced. “I got this guy to keep me in line, right?” He gently nudges Conor with his elbow.

“Damn straight,” Conor says, playfully knocking Brian right back. “Thanks for the concern though, Sid. See you on the ice?”

Sid gently pats Brian’s head before pulling his hand back. “Absolutely,” he says.

Under Conor’s watchful eye, practice goes just fine for the first hour. Brian is locked in, focused intensely, and he looks good in the defensive drills. Fuck, he always looks good, though; Conor’s long thought that Brian doesn’t quite know how damn good he is because he doesn’t score the fancy goals. Everything seems perfectly normal until the last drill of the day, working on special teams. Brian’s in front of the net with JJ, trying to contend with the net-front presence of Horny along with Sid stalking the backdoor, and it’s too much. Sid scores a beauty of a tip on an amazing feed from Geno, and suddenly Brian is on his knees in front of Muzz, clutching at Matt’s jersey, head bowed in supplication. “Shit,” Conor says, immediately moving towards the scene.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, I’ll be better,” Conor can hear Brian begging Muzz.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Muzz soothes, patting Brian with his glove.

Sid is there too, gently holding onto Brian and gesturing Conor in. “Take him to the big room, practice is done for you guys today. The rest of the team is gonna finish up, maybe 15 more minutes, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Alright?”

“Thanks,” Conor tells him as they get Brian to his feet. He skates along with Conor steadily enough, although he can see some dampness around Brian’s eyes.

He lets Brian kneel for a moment when they get back to the locker room, helping take off his jersey, his elbow guards, his chest protector. “Get yourself undressed,” he says, putting his Dom voice into it. He doesn’t use it too often, and it snaps Brian out of his stupor, at least temporarily, allowing him to lever himself back up into his stall and start untying his skates.

Conor skips the team shower room; the ‘big room’ as Sid called it, the one used for team dynamics, has a shower installed there, and that’s where they head. Based on their heights it’s impossible for Conor to keep a firm hand on the back of Brian’s neck while they walk, but he keeps it on Brian’s lower back instead, and that’s grounding enough that Brian can get to their destination without going back down to his knees. “I’m sorry, Sir,” he mumbles. “I told you I was fine - I thought I was fine - “

“I know, I know. But you weren’t lying, were you? You really did think you were fine. Sometimes things change. I’m not angry at you.”

“Okay,” Brian says, but he still sounds morose.

In the dynamic room, Conor puts down the shower seat, sets the waterproof cushion on the floor so Brian can kneel there while they wash up. He doesn’t even need to be told, sinking onto the cushion with a relieved sigh, even before the water is fully warm. “Need something in your mouth?” Conor asks. Like many subs, he knows Brian finds it calming to suck on something. That would usually be his cock, but they both need to get clean before that happens. Some guys like sex when they're all sweaty and gross, but that's never been their thing. 

“Yes, please.”

The dynamic room is fully stocked, and Conor has lots of options, but he ends up picking out a dildo gag, one of Brian’s favorites. The dildo is short and soft - made to reduce the risk of choking, but still fulfill an oral fixation - and Brian opens up easy while Conor fits it inside his mouth and secures the gag behind his head. “If you need to, you have permission to undo the gag,” he tells Brian, who nods.

Conor lets Brian kneels quietly between his legs on the cushion while he washes them both, spending a long time kneading shampoo into Brian’s curls as he knows it calms him. He asks yes or no questions to keep him engaged and out of subspace, at least for the moment: is he feeling alright? (Yes, after a hesitation.) Does he need an enema? (No.) Does he need to be temporarily unlocked to deep clean his cock cage? (No.)

“Here. Wash your lower half,” Conor says, passing him the soaped loofah. “Then we’ll take out that gag and I’ll give you the real thing.”

Brian’s shoulders sag with relief, and he dutifully takes the loofah, washing his waist, his legs, everything below the belt while Conor takes himself in hand and strokes himself. This isn’t meant to be a long and lengthy blowjob for his own pleasure, just a calming technique for Brian. “I’m going to put it on your face today,” Conor tells him, gently petting his jaw. “I want to see you marked up.”

Brian normally prefers to swallow, but he nods easily at the change of pace, and when he looks up next his eyes are starting to get the glassy haze of him dropping into subspace. “Good boy, sweet boy,” Conor soothes, gently unhooking the gag; a line of thick spit drags from Brian’s mouth to the small dildo, and he clicks his tongue, looking a little distressed at the loss. “Shh, here, I got you.”

Normally, Conor would make Brian work for it, but not now. He holds Brian’s head steady and still while he gently thrusts into his mouth, working his hips slowly, non-urgently, until Brian’s mouth foams with spit, dripping down Conor’s cock. “Stop thinking. Just take it,” Conor commands, and he can tell when Brian finally lets go and fully submits; his throat opens wide, no more resistance, and the small clench in Brian’s jaw and neck smooths out. A rush of pleasure goes up his spine, like it always does when subs fully and completely give themselves over to him, and he pulls out, taking himself back in hand. “Close your eyes,” he says.

A movement out of the corner of his eyes brings Conor’s attention away from Brian for a second. Sid has arrived at some point, unshowered and still in his undergarments. He makes a motion towards Conor - _go ahead_ \- and it doesn’t take long at all before he’s coming on Brian’s face. Conor makes sure to splatter near Brian’s lips so he can taste, and sets his softening cock on his mouth so Brian can gently lap him clean. “Sid,” he says with a sigh, petting Brian’s head. “Thanks for coming.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Better.” Conor gently lifts Brian’s head, peering into his eyes. He’s still in subspace; he won’t get a straight answer out of him now. “How are you doing?” he asks anyway, checking in.

“Good,” Brian says muzzily, eyes locking on Sid for the first time, making a low, interested noise.

“You want Sid, too? You know you can always have Sid if you want.”

“Just - “ Brian chews on his lower lip for a moment, blinking slowly. “My mouth, Sir?”

“Ah.” Conor gestures Sid over. “I came on his face, but it would be nice if you could come in his mouth. He’s missing it. That okay?”

“Whatever he needs,” Sid says, stripping out of his sweat-soaked shirt. “Want me to shower first?”

Usually that's a yes, but Brian surprises him today. “No,” Brian says. “Just need - please.”

“I mean, we’re already in the shower, you can just hop in,” Conor says, unable to resist being a smart-ass for a moment. Sid gives him a fond, exasperated look, but then his focus is right back on Brian as he pulls off the rest of his undergarments.

“Hey, Dumo. Hi, sweet boy,” Sid says gently as he approaches the shower. He steps inside, across from where Conor is sitting, settling a hand firmly on the back of Brian’s neck. “Bad day, huh? Don’t worry, sweetheart. It happens to everyone occasionally. You’re still ours. You’ll always be ours.”

Brian beams at that, turning on his knees to face Sid, and Conor sits back and watches with some interest. It’s amazing how Sid seems to know just how to approach not only every sub, but every Dom as well. Conor has seen plenty of guys who only respond to a firm hand, but Sid is always tender and supportive with Brian during their dynamic interactions, which is exactly the thing he responds best to in most situations. How does he know that Dumo wants to be praised but Rusty sometimes needs to be pinned up against the wall, or that Turbo sometimes - alright, _often_ \- needs a firm hand?

Actually, that last one isn’t really a surprise, but nevertheless.

Conor’s also never seen a guy go from soft to fully hard as fast as Sid does. It’s a fucking wonder, Conor thinks, and a damn useful skill when your dick is used to calm guys down on occasion. He watches as Sid runs his thumb along Brian’s face, through Conor’s come still splattered there, and down to his mouth and jaw, pressing at the hinge. Brian opens up obediently, making a soft pleased noise as Sid slides his cock slowly between his lips.

Brian’s still fully relaxed from being down in subspace, and he clutches at Sid’s thick thighs while Sid uses his mouth. Much like Conor, he’s not making Brian do any of the work, slowly fucking in and out. Watching Brian’s cheeks bulge from Sid’s cock, and listening to the wet sounds he’s making...it’s almost enough to get Conor hard again. Almost.

Meanwhile, Sid is showering praise and acknowledgement on Brian while he fucks his mouth, petting his head while telling him how good he is, how much the team needs him, how perfect a sub and a defenseman he is for the Pens. “We love you,” Sid tells him right before he comes, and Brian sobs deep in his throat and swallows it all.

“Thank you,” he says after Sid’s pulled out, voice cracking from having his throat used twice, and he sits back against Conor, pillowing his head on Conor’s thigh, seeking comfort. An old fierce instinct blooms in Conor’s chest, especially in the presence of another Dom, but he tamps it down.

“What else do you need?” he asks Brian, circling a protective arm around him.

“I - “ Brian slowly pulls back to sitting, moving as slow as molasses, still mostly under. “I need to apologize to Tanger.”

Conor locks eyes with Sid. It’s tempting to say no, that Dumo doesn’t need to apologize to anyone, but - if Brian feels like he has to make amends, that’s what his body and mind are telling him he _needs_ , and far be it from either of them to deny it. “I have some ideas, Sid,” he says. “I can call or text later if you want. But maybe Dumo and I could come over tonight? If Tanger is feeling up to it?”

“I think he’d like that very much, but I’ll ask.” Sid leans down, kisses Brian on the forehead. “Good boy,” he says again, grabs a towel, and heads out, giving them some privacy.

Brian doesn’t look like he’s moving anytime soon, so Conor shuts off the shower and towel dries them both. “What are your ideas?” Brian asks, in the middle of getting his hair dried, so Conor knows he’s a little more with it right now. “For my apology?”

“I think we can go to Sid and Tanger’s place, and you can make Tanger a nice meal. Show off those chef skills, huh? And I think you should look pretty for Tanger while you’re serving him.”

Brian’s breath audibly hitches. “Pretty. You mean, like - “

“Mmm-hmm.” Conor kisses the top of his head, the curls tickling his chin. “Have Kayla help pick out something for you. She has much better taste than I do.”

“Are - “ Brian turns to look at Conor, his eyes wide. “Are you sure Tanger will like it,” he says, voice small and flat.

“That’s why Sid and I are going to talk. You know nobody is going to make fun of you.”

Brian takes a deep breath, nods. “If Tanger will like it - “ He sits up straighter. “If Tanger will like it, I’m going to knock his socks off.”

“Oh, I know you will, baby. I love you, you know that?”

“Love you too, Sir.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P U R E self-indulgent porn because the Dumo in my other BDSM fic doesn't like feminization and my brain figured that must be corrected somewhere.

“You promised me two orgasms today,” Jordan reminds Conor as they’re walking over to the Dumoulins, their dogs trotting ahead of them, sniffing at everything. “And here you are, handing me over to another Dom for the night. Orgasm-less.”

“Kayla is going to make you come until you beg her to stop, you know,” Conor says. “Tell you what, if you’re still itching for it after I come home later tonight, you can have all the orgasms you want. Otherwise I’ll let you pick when to cash in those two I promised you.”

“Ooh,” Jordan says, waggling her eyebrows at that. “Deal.”

They walk up the driveway to the Dumoulins, but before either of them can ring the doorbell, Conor gently pushes her up against the front door with a soft thunk. “Who owns you?” he demands quietly.

Her eyes flutter, and she moans quietly. “You do, Master,” she says. “Lady Kayla gets me for tonight, but you get me forever. I’d never forget.”

“Good girl,” Conor says, pleased, stepping back and ringing the doorbell.

Their dogs, Brady and Louie, make a yipping beeline for the Dumoulins’ dog Roo, who wiggles delightedly at the visitors. Brian towers above them with a welcoming smile, his typical brown leather collar changed out for a sparkly pink one. He’s in a smart grey suit, the tight one with suspenders that he never wears to hockey (only to dynamic situations), and Conor’s about to protest that he meant ‘pretty’ as something entirely different when Jordan gasps.

“Bri, I love your heels,” she says, opening her arms for a hug, which Brian leans down - way down - and returns.

That certainly explains why he looks so tall today. The heels are a light blue which precisely match his shirt, and Conor can see matching stockings peeking out.

Kayla appears with a grin. “You should see what’s underneath that suit,” she says. “Hi.”

“Kayla,” Conor says, greeting her with his own hug. “You always outdo yourself.”

“I wanna see,” Jordan says, eyes bright. “God, Bri, I bet you’re so pretty.”

Brian is bright red; humiliation is a big part of this for him, but he still smiles. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “Mistress took some photos for you.”

“I’ll show you soon, honey,” Kayla tells Jordan, then waggles her finger playfully at Conor. “You get to see it live and in person. No peeking for you. You can be just as surprised as Sid and Tanger.”

“Aw,” Conor protests playfully.

“Trust me, it’s worth the wait.” Kayla slides up, grabs a possessive handful of Jordan’s rump. “So this pretty thing hasn’t had an orgasm since yesterday morning? You mean to say we riled her up last night and she still hasn’t gotten off?”

Jordan nods with an exaggerated pout. “He’s so mean to me.”

“Let’s not waste any time, then. You two have fun,” Kayla says, then holds her hand out for Brian, who dutifully goes to one knee and reverently kisses it, then drops down and gives both her feet a quick kiss before standing back up. She pulls him close for a real kiss. “I love you,” she tells Brian fondly. “Be a good girl for Tanger.”

“I will, Mistress,” Brian says, face going red again at being called a girl. “I love you too.”

“Man oh man,” Conor says as they’re walking to his car, slowly in consideration for the heels. “Makin’ me jealous of Tanger, you know? You look great.”

“Yeah?” Brian grins. “It’s - you know it’s a lot for me, Shears. And these _heels._ How do women do it all day?”

“Beats the hell out of me. I’m not complaining, though. They make your ass look amazing. You should see Jordan when she’s in heels, oh man.”

“Kayla, too,” Brian says with a sigh. “God, nothing like kissing her feet while she’s wearing heels, holy shit.”

“Tonight, you get to appreciate the sacrifices they make for aesthetics.” Conor deftly steps to the passenger side - there’s no way Brian can drive in heels - and opens up the car door for him. “My lady,” he says.

“Thank you, Sir,” he laughs, folding himself inside with only a bit of difficulty.

“You comfortable with the food you’re making tonight? Special request from Tanger, according to Sid.”

Brian scoffs. “Oh, easy stuff. Wild mushroom risotto, New York strip, asparagus. That’s no problem. I’ve never made a Sazerac cocktail before, so that’ll be interesting. But the food is gonna rock, at least.”

“It always does. You’re so fucking talented.” Conor sets his hand on Brian’s thigh as he sets off down the road; he can feel a little bump there, the clip of a garter. “And sexy.”

There’s a pause, and Brian grins. “I mean, you can keep going. Don’t let me stop you. Talented, sexy…?”

“And cheeky, apparently.” Conor grins. “You’re still feeling okay about this? Still needing to apologize? We can just make him dinner and head home. A nice night with friends, nothing dynamic about it.”

Brian’s expression turns serious. “I still want to. Maybe it’s just because I can’t take that sort of punishment - “

“No,” Conor interjects sharply. “You can take it. You can take anything, but that sort of punishment isn't what you _need._ We’ve talked about this before; you’re not less of a sub because spanking doesn’t work for you. Think of everything you can do that most subs can’t. I think every other sub on the Pens roster would be clawing their eyeballs out if they were locked up for more than a week. You do it all season.”

“You’re right,” Brian says. “I guess I mean...because spanking doesn’t work for me, it was really rough. Seeing Tanger strapped there, crying, because of how the team performed - how _I_ performed - I know Sid said he’d be punished regardless of what happened on the ice. But I can’t help but think that maybe if we’d squeaked out the win, it wouldn’t have been as bad for him. And I know it’s a team sport, I know, but. Five goals, Shears. It sucks.”

“Tanger might have gotten away with a lesser punishment at the time, but I think ultimately it would have led to exactly what happened. I mean, I’m not his Dom, but I think what went down was an eventuality. You know?”

“Maybe,” Brian admits. “I still need to make my reparations, though.”

“Ooh, fancy word,” Conor says, trying to draw a smile out of Brian; it’s a moderate success, at least. “Lucky for me, then. I always love seeing you all pretty. I’m gonna push your limits tonight, you know. That’s what you asked for. You’re gonna be my whore tonight. But you always have your safeword.”

Brian blows out a nervous breath between his teeth. “They’re not gonna make fun of me?”

“You think Sid - “

“Tanger. I mean. I _love_ Tanger, but. He’s not always, um, tactful.”

Conor chuckles. “True, but mostly to the other team. He’s excited, I promise. But I’ll go over ground rules while you’re cooking. He violates any, we’re outta there.”

“Yeah, I know. I know you got my back.”

“Always.”

“Oh, and I brought this.” Brian pulls out a small metal tube from his pocket, and it takes Conor a moment to recognize it. “It’s lipstick,” Brian supplies at his confused look. “Kayla has tried to put makeup on me before and it looks awful, even she admitted it, but she really likes the way it smears everywhere after she uses my mouth. She thought Tanger might be into it.”

“Fuck, I’m into it,” Conor says. “You never used that with me.”

“You’re into me even without it,” Brian grins, slipping the tube back into his pocket.

Brian’s relaxed on the way over, chatting and laughing, but as they pull into the driveway he straightens up, body radiating nervous energy. “Stop,” Conor says, leaning over to kiss him. “Relax. You look great. Ready?”

“I’m ready.”

Sid answers the door with a smile, and behind him is Tanger, naked except for a collar. He looks relaxed and happy, very different from the tightly-wound man that Conor remembers in the locker room, with seemingly no care in the world to the fact that he’s nude. Brian follows him inside, tall enough that he has to duck through the entryway, and both Sid and Kris notice the heels immediately. “Nice shoes,” Tanger says with a grin.

“Thanks,” Brian answers, hesitating in front of Kris. “Any chance you want a hug?”

“I’m _fine,_ Dumo,” Kris responds, fondly exasperated, but assents to the hug. “Don’t get me wrong, I won’t turn down your apology, but I’m fine. It’s all good, really.”

“I know, I know, but...y’know. I like your collar, by the way.”

Tanger rarely wears his collar around the team, and has never been naked when Conor has previously come over, so this must be part of his punishment. Kris turns his smile towards Sid. “Yeah, my Dom did a good job picking it out. Thank god, because all the rest of his clothes and fashion are a fucking disaster.”

“Hey,” Sid yelps, swatting playfully at Kris. “That’s enough outta you. Dumo, wanna come see the kitchen? I did some prep work for you, to make things easier.”

“Thanks, you didn’t have to do that. Sure, lead the way. Besides Tanger’s drink, what does everyone else want?”

Conor and Sid decide to keep it simple - a glass of wine for Sid, a vodka soda for Conor - and everyone but Brian convenes in the living room, chatting until Brian has delivered their alcohol. He hovers while Tanger takes a sip of his drink. “First time making?” he asks Brian.

“Yup.”

“For your first time? Not bad,” Kris says. “You’ll do better on the second one.”

Conor snorts as Brian disappears back in the direction of the kitchen. “Don’t drink too much, you still need to fuck Dumo.”

“Hey, don’t talk to me about whiskey dick. Just because you can’t keep it up - “

“Oh, don’t even start with me, Tanger.” Conor leans forward, sets his glass aside. “But speaking of, we need to go over ground rules and the scene.”

“I didn’t know he was into fem,” Sid says with a small frown - probably, Conor thinks, because he makes it a point to know what _everyone_ is into, so he can help out if necessary.

“It’s complicated. Nothing makes him feel more ‘put in his place’ than the humiliation of being feminized. So I wouldn’t say he likes it as in he’d choose to normally do it; but for Dumo, being punished is all about taking away his agency and forcing him into uncomfortable situations. Safeword is always available to him, of course.”

“Foliage, right?” Sid asks, because of course he remembers.

“You got it. Even in a punishment situation, he’s not into most sorts of pain, so that’s off the table. _Gentle_ spanking is okay, like during sex, and biting hard is fine, and some nipple pinching, but that’s about it. He’ll shut down if you use derogatory language, like uh…if you call him fat, or ugly, or worthless, that stuff. But compliments that emphasize how feminine he is? Telling him he’s pretty, talking about him like he’s a girl? He’ll be mortified, but that’s what we’re going for.” Conor nods at Sid. “For an extra layer of humiliation, I’m going to negotiate a price with you for his ass right after dinner. You know, like he’s just some common whore. That kinda stuff is fine, too. You know, calling him a slut.”

“Wait,” Kris says, sitting up with a smirk. “Real money? Sid has to pay up?”

“It was intended to be just part of the scene, but...Sid?”

Sid narrows his eyes, grinning. “How much are we talking about here?”

“Depends on how good you are at negotiating,” Conor shoots back.

That startles a laugh out of Sid, and he sets down his wine glass. “Deal,” he says. “I’m gonna get her cheap, Shears.”

“Don’t take all his money, Shears,” Kris says. “He’s gonna roll right over and open his wallet.”

“Hey!” Sid protests.

Conor loses himself in a friendly bout of teasing Sid, and then conversation veers towards other topics, and he’s almost surprised when Brian appears in the doorway again. “Five minutes, gentlemen,” he announces. “Almost time for dinner.”

He’s walking much steadier now, and Conor notices he’s taken off his shoes. “Sweetie, where’s your heels?”

“Oh, um - “ Brian falters for a second before smiling again. “I took them off to cook. Just to cook, though.”

“Make sure you put them back on before you get to the table, okay? Gotta have my girl looking presentable in front of guests. Jeez, guys, I’m sorry,” he says, addressing Sid and Kris. “She’s usually such a proper lady.”

“Sorry,” Brian stammers out, vanishing back into the kitchen.

“What a taskmaster,” Kris says dryly.

“Hey, it’s a good way to let him know we’re in the scene now. Remember, from now on, he’s a beautiful and well-to-do submissive and classy lady that secretly wants to get all her holes filled. Apparently, Kayla put him - her - in something truly special underneath that suit. I haven’t even gotten to see it yet, but it should be fun.”

“Nice,” Sid says. “Kris set up the formal dining room earlier, if you’re ready to head there.”

When Brian comes in with the food - plated beautifully - it’s with the slow, deliberate pace of concentrating on unstable footwear. “There’s my pretty girl,” Conor praises as Brian sets down a plate for him.

“Give it to Tanger first,” Sid defers when Brian tries to serve him next, as is traditional - your own Dom first, then other Doms. “It’s his night.”

“Damn straight it is,” he crows, eyes lighting up when he sees the food. “Looks great.”

“Something else looks great too,” Conor leers, reaching out to gently fondle Brian’s ass as he goes back to the kitchen, earning a small yip.

He only sits once everyone’s been served and topped off with a fresh drink. There’s compliments all around at Brian’s skill, and he ducks his head in pleasure at the praise. “Thanks, everyone,” he says. “I hope you enjoy. Tanger, I want this to be perfect for you.”

“It is so far,” Kris says.

Dinner is enjoyable, albeit a little quieter and less bawdy than it normally is when the Penguins get together. Being submissive does not in any way mean _meek_ or _quiet_ or _proper,_ Conor has long ago learned; some of the most extroverted and energetic men on the team are subs. Even Brian is never as soft and sweet with the team as he is during dynamic scenes. But for tonight, there’s an awareness that this isn’t just any gathering; it’s a scene, a punishment, and they act accordingly. Brian especially stays prim and proper, no swearing, seemingly content to let ‘the boys’ talk and keep everyone’s drink filled.

“Dumo, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” Sid says as their plates empty, sitting back with a small sigh. “Shears, you’re a lucky man. I’m stuffed.”

Kris snorts, setting aside his napkin. “Well, I still have room,” he says. “What about dessert?”

Brian looks genuinely concerned. “I didn’t get any instructions about dessert. But I can look to see what you have, and - “

“Not really sure I mean _that_ kind of dessert.” Kris turns a pout towards Sid. “Mon chou, can you buy me a present?”

Sid chuckles indulgently, like this sort of thing happens all the time between them, and shrugs at Conor, an expansive _what-can-you-do?_ type of look. “My sub here wants a treat tonight, Shears,” he says. “I’m thinking your pretty lady over there.”

Conor gasps like he’s scandalized. “And why do you think she’s for sale?” He turns a critical eye on Brian, who stares back at him, eyes wide. “Is it because of the fuck-me eyes she’s been giving everyone all night? We’ve talked about this, Brian - you’re mine.”

Brian shakes his head. “I haven’t been giving anyone - “

“Oh, come on now.” Conor gets up, slides around behind Brian’s seat and leans in behind him. He can feel Brian’s low, shallow breathing as he drapes himself over Brian’s back. “You know that’s not true. You can pretend you’re classy all you want, but we both know the truth: you came here in your sluttiest lingerie because you wanted to get fucked by all of us. Didn’t you? You’re not really happy unless every single one of your holes is filled up. Don’t act like you’re not dying for someone to fuck your pussy. Now, tell me what you are.”

Brian’s breath hitches at the word ‘pussy’, and Conor rubs his cheek along Brian’s jaw, flared red from embarrassment at the mild degradation, especially in front of Sid and Tanger. “I’m a slut,” he murmurs quietly.

“My slut,” Conor corrects. He glances up at Sid and Kris; Sid is watching intently, and Tanger just looks amused, but his half-hard cock betrays his interest. “Say it louder.”

“I’m your slut,” Brian says again, closing his eyes.

“That’s right you are. So I might as well get a little money from your whore pussy.” Conor nods at Sid. “Make me an offer.”

“Well, if she’s as much of a slut as you say…$10.”

Brian makes a soft whimper at the insultingly low bid. “$10?” Conor yelps.

“Sounds like she’d fuck us for free, the way you say it.”

“Well, she doesn’t get to decide that. I do. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Conor doesn’t wait for Brian to respond. “$1000. If you don’t have the cash, I’ll take an IOU, but you better be good for it.”

“I dunno, that’s a lot of money.” Sid glances over at Kris. “What do you think? It’s your gift.”

Kris grins. “She could be worth it,” he says. “Tell you what, Shears. You said she’s wearing slutty lingerie? Let’s see it. Then we’ll decide.”

Conor gently tugs on Brian’s hair, taking a step back. “Well darling, your time to shine,” he tells him. “Make it good. Give them a show.”

Brian swivels around to meet his eyes, and Conor can see the nerves written plain across his expression, the sudden doubt there, so he leans in again and kisses Brian on the temple. “You’re going to do great, gorgeous,” he whispers to Brian. “Look how turned on Tanger is. Nobody’s going to laugh at you.”

Brian nods slowly, looking back over at Kris, tilting his head. “You want to see me?” he asks, standing up and pulling at his suit jacket, not taking it off quite yet. “I don’t normally do this, you know.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” Kris says, with just a hint of sarcasm and disbelief that makes Brian blush a little.

“I don’t,” he insists, dipping his shoulders slowly to ease out of the suit jacket. “You’re just special.”

“Well I do know _that,”_ Kris grins. “Come closer.”

“Don’t touch,” Conor demands as Brian makes his way over to Kris, leaving his jacket behind. “She’s not your whore until you pay up.”

Kris puts his hands up, exaggeratedly high, while Brian gently swings a leg over and perches on his lap. Kris leans close - deliberately not touching, but close, what a _brat_ \- and inhales next to Brian’s neck. “Is that perfume?”

“Oh, um - yes,” Brian says, loosening his suspenders. “Do you like it?”

“Smells good. Makes me want to - “ Kris snaps his jaws together.

“That’ll be extra,” Conor says. “If you want to mark her up. Let’s call it an extra $50 and you can mark her up wherever and however you want. Be gentle, though. She’s delicate. Doesn’t take too much to give her a nice hickey, trust me on that.”

“She doesn’t look that delicate,” Sid says quietly. “Looks like she can take a good hard fucking.”

Brian must make some kind of face - he’s turned away from both Sid and Conor, facing Kris on his lap - because Kris bursts out laughing. “Can you take a good hard fuck? Because that’s what I want,” he asks, and then his eyes are drawn down to Brian’s chest, where he’s slowly unbuttoning his dress shirt. “Look, such pretty tits under that bra.”

Even from across the table, Conor can hear Brian’s quiet whine, and - not for the first time - marvels that Kris is the most forceful, demanding sub he’s ever known, wonders what Sid has to go through to get him down. “I can take it,” Brian says softly. “I want it.”

“Turn around for us, sweetie. Me and Sid wanna see too,” Conor says.

Slowly, Brian swivels around in Kris’ lap. His shirt is unbuttoned, half-untucked from his pants with one suspender hanging free, giving a good view of his chest. He’s wearing a lacy bra, white with baby blue accents, the same blue color as his heels, and the bra is translucent enough that Conor can see his nipples through the lace. Sitting just above his hips is the same color garter belt, and the buckle straps wind their way south underneath his dress pants, a promise of the stockings underneath. Normally Brian has a triangle dusting of hair on his chest and a trail down his stomach, but he’s shorn clean today. Kayla must have shaved him. “Fuck,” he breathes, and next to him he can hear Sid let out a short breath. “Still think she’s not worth the money?”

“Tits are a dime a dozen,” Sid says, although the breathiness of the statement betrays his interest. “Let’s see her pussy.”

Every time someone calls it a _pussy_ Brian flushes a new shade of crimson, and already Conor can see the sheen in his eyes, the humiliation dropping him down into subspace. “You heard Sid, pretty girl,” he encourages. “C’mon now. Take your shirt off first, then your pants.”

Despite the no-touching rule, Kris helps Brian peel off the shirt, holding one of the sleeves while Brian wiggles out of it; Conor figures he gets a pass for that. As Brian maneuvers out of the shirt, Conor notices that his underarms are clean as well, not a spot of hair. Kayla clearly went all-out for them this time.

Brian lifts up to unbuckle and unbutton his pants, the creamy color of the lace revealed as he swivels his hips. It’s not quite a dance, more like a sexy sway, and Kris’ eyebrows shoot up as the pants fall down past the curve of Brian’s ass. Brian has to steady himself against the dining room table to take off the pants - the high heels making it difficult - but soon enough he stands before them in just the lingerie set and the shoes, chin dipped low out of embarrassment. “Twirl,” Sid says, making a circle with his finger.

Conor sees what Kris was reacting to right away as Brian spins; the panties are open-backed, easy access to his ass, and there’s a plug sitting there. It’s pink, with a blue jewel at the back, another matching accessory to his outfit. The front is the same see-through lace as the bra, Brian’s cock cage a heavy weight sitting there. But unlike his typical black silicone cage, meant for discreet and comfortable everyday wear, this cage is a heavy resin and bright pink, and Conor can see that Kayla even shaved his pubic hair. The stockings are blue and thigh-high. “You’re the prettiest girl in the world, baby,” Conor says, and he means every word.

“Can I touch now, Sid?” Kris pouts at him. “Pay the man, would you? Give him that extra $50, too.”

Sid fixes Kris with a fondly exasperated look, and Conor can still hear Kris’ teasing: _he’s gonna roll right over and open his wallet._ Somehow, Conor knows that Kris anticipated exactly this scenario. “I have $500 on me now,” Sid says with a loud sigh, fishing out his wallet and slapping the cash on the table. “You’ll get the rest later this week.”

“I know you’re good for it, Sid,” Conor says magnanimously, reaching out to collect the money. His attention is drawn by a loud whimper; he looks up to see Kris’ mouth on Brian, teeth sunk into his neck. Brian’s head is tilted to the side, inviting the bite, but he is also gently pawing at Kris’ shoulder. It looks like it _hurts._ “Jesus, you didn’t tell me you got a biter.”

Kris loosens his jaw, affecting an innocent confusion when he sees both Sid and Conor staring at him. “What? You said I could bite. Paid extra for it,” he says, kissing the mark, already starting to purple. Normally he’d be across the table if another Dom tried to mark his sub up, but...it’s different somehow, with Kris, another submissive. He doesn’t feel any of that protective Dom bluster. Instead, it’s just kind of hot.

“Hey now,” he says, rapping the table as Brian starts to list. Marking is a fast way to put him down into subspace, but if he goes too deep, he’s going to be useless. “Get over here and let Sid see you a little bit before Tanger has his way with you, baby.”

That wakes Brian right up, and he hesitates on Kris’ lap, who is starting to pout. “You bought her for me,” he protests to Sid.

“With my money,” Sid shoots back. “I at least get to inspect the goods before letting you have your way with her. You’re gonna wreck her.”

“Well, that’s true,” Kris says, and gently shoves Brian off his lap, giving his ass a little smack. Brian stumbles a little in the heels, but rights himself up and slinks over to Sid, looking embarrassed to be standing in front of him in the lingerie.

Sid sits Brian down right on his lap. “Let’s see you,” he says. He leans in close to smell the perfume as his hands roam slowly over Brian’s body; he cups his hands over Brian’s pecs like they’re real breasts, gently pinching each nipple through the fabric, then skims lower to cup his cock cage in his hand. As he’s reaching around to take two firm handfuls of Brian’s ass, he asks, “She ever take two cocks at the same time?”

“Oh, plenty,” Conor snorts.

“No, that’s not what I mean. Not in her pussy and mouth. I mean…” Sid jiggles the plug, and Brian bites his lip. “Two down here.”

This is all part of the roleplay; Sid knows he has. Those days after the Cup wins were _wild._ And Brian wasn’t even ashamed of it at the time, begging for it, but you wouldn’t know it now as he squirms and blushes. “What, you getting ideas? That’ll be way extra.”

“Hey!” Kris says, pure brat energy across the table. “My toy!”

Sid fixes Kris with a look, lifting an eyebrow, but relents with a sigh and a smile and a squeeze to Brian’s ass. “Go make my sub happy, beautiful,” he tells Brian with a tiny swat.

“Grab what you have in your pocket first,” Conor suggests. “It’s a surprise,” he tells both of them. He can tell by the way Brian reacts that he’s hesitant about it, but as he does as asked, bending to find the tube of lipstick in his discarded pants and holding it up. Kris obviously gets it right away, grin going lecherous, but Sid looks confused until Brian uncaps the tube and lifts it to his mouth to paint his lips, slow and deliberate.

“You bring that just for me?” Kris asks, snagging Brian by the hips as he gets close and hauling him back onto his lap. “Want to get all messed up, pretty girl?” Brian nods, and Kris grabs his chin and gives him a quick, biting kiss before pushing his mouth away. “Use that mouth elsewhere, then. On your knees.”

Taking a graceful step off Kris’ lap, Brian sinks beautifully to the floor. Conor’s always thought that Brian has the prettiest kneel he’s ever seen; he and Kayla are big into old-fashioned, high protocol positions, and Brian has worked hard on his technique to look graceful. Next to him, Sid hums thoughtfully. “You could learn something from her, Tanger,” he says, and Kris rolls his eyes dramatically.

“I kneel just fine. I guess it was a nice kneel,” he concedes, then nudges Brian with his toe. “If you suck dick as nice as you go down, maybe you are worth the money. May - be.” The end of the word trills upward into almost a squeak. Conor’s finding it hard to see, with Brian practically underneath the table, but based on Kris’ expression he’s pretty sure that he’s finding out just how good Brian can suck dick.

That was one of the biggest things he missed about Pittsburgh, he muses. With Jordan he loves taking her roughly, watching her mascara run as she cries and gags and pretends to protest while he’s fucking her mouth, but Brian takes it all with a smile and asks for more and more and more. Buffalo had an odd number of subs and Doms - they’re still a team that believes in Dom-stacking, that subs aren’t well-suited for the NHL - and Conor never had a team sub up there. Having two subs again is a nice change of pace.

“Don’t come,” Sid instructs Kris, and Conor glances over to see his attention glued on Kris, much like Connor can’t help but stare at his own sub under the table.

“I wasn’t gonna yet,” Kris grouses, digging his fingers into Brian’s scalp as he sucks.

“Good. You know better.”

Conor leans his chair back so he can see Brian a little better. Even from the back, it’s a pretty sight: Conor can see the plug sitting between his cheeks, his legs encased in the stockings and folded perfectly under him, arms behind his back with one wrist clasped in a formal kneel position. If he listens close, he can hear Brian sucking in a breath every time he bobs up. “You can grab her hair if you want,” Conor says. “She looks all prim and proper, but she’s happiest on her knees when you’re fucking her mouth. Smear her lipstick all over.”

“I thought she was happiest getting fucked,” Kris grunts, but he takes the invitation, tightening his grip on Brian’s hair and thrusting up into his mouth. Sid smirks, too; it makes his demand to not come that much more difficult for Kris.

Conor shrugs. “She’s not picky,” he says. “As long as she has a cock in her, she’s good. Doesn’t even need to be a real one. You should see some of the fake ones her wife has.”

“I’m not a size queen. ...luckily,” Kris says, shooting a bratty grin in Sid’s direction at the tease before his expression melts in pleasure at the blowjob.

“Keep it up,” Sid warns mildly. “I bought her for you, I can take her away just as easy.”

“Mmm,” Kris says, visibly shivering at the warning, but licks his lips and falls silent.

Sid and Conor are quiet too; the only sounds in the room are the wet noises of Brian’s throat getting fucked, and Conor...he wants to be in Kris’ spot, with Brian sliding his red lips up and down his cock. Tonight’s not about him, though, so he keeps his mouth shut and his dick in his pants. Sid is still intensely paying attention to Kris, every sound and squirm he makes. “Remember, I told you not to come,” he tells Kris. Something must have set off the reminder, something that Conor can’t see, not in tune to Kris’ body like Sid is. “I won’t tell you again. I know you’re close.”

Kris makes an overly dramatic noise, clearly frustrated, but taps Brian’s head. “Off, off,” he says. “I wanna fuck you. Can I come when I fuck her, Sid?”

“You can come when I tell you to,” Sid says, his Dom voice firmly in place.

“Ugh,” Kris says, but doesn’t protest any more as Brian stands up and roughly gets manhandled back onto Kris’ lap, leaned forward so Kris has access to his ass. Brian’s mouth - streaked with red across his cheek and chin from the lipstick - drops open at something Kris is doing, although he makes no noise, and suddenly the plug appears; Kris drops it carelessly on the table before his hand disappears behind Brian again. “Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, I just put two fingers right in. She’s so wet.”

“Toldja. She loves it,” Conor says. “Don’t you, sweetie? Slut for it, aren’t you?”

“Please, Sir,” Brian whines, head hanging down, and Conor knows he’s talking to him and not to Kris by the title.

Conor shakes his head. “Don’t beg me,” he says. “Beg Kris. See Tanger, you took the plug out, and now she doesn’t know what to do with herself, that she doesn’t have something in her. You’re gonna have to fix that soon.”

“Lube,” Kris demands. Based on the noises Brian is making, slumped over with his chest on the table and trembling, Kris still has his fingers buried in Brian, is doing something particularly good.

Sid produces a tube from his pocket, holds it up. “You gonna ask nice?”

“Lube _please,”_ Kris says, just a hint of brat, but it’s good enough for Sid and he tosses it over.

Or, Conor amends, seeing the glint in Sid’s eye - Kris is in for some trouble and he doesn’t know it yet.

The only lube Kris really needs is a quick stroke along his dick. “Ride me, beautiful,” Kris says, nipping at Brian’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Brian agrees, sounding eager for it as he sets his back along Kris’ chest, lining up and sinking down. He towers over Kris and the table with his long legs, even longer in the heels, and is still so tall even when he’s fully impaled on Kris’ cock, whimpering. It’s a beautiful sight, the contrast between the well-muscled and stocky Kris and Brian’s lanky limbs in such pretty lingerie, and Sid must think so too because he draws in a harsh breath.

“No condom, huh,” Conor muses as Brian starts riding Kris, grabbing onto the table for support. “You’re gonna breed her right up if you’re not careful. What am I supposed to do with a pregnant slut?”

“Sir,” Brian whispers, flushing even redder with embarrassment at Conor’s statement but never stopping his movement as he bounces on top of Kris' cock. 

Next to him, Sid leans forward. “We’ll be careful,” he says. “Tanger, play with her nipples. Tell me how she feels.”

Brian lets out a throaty cry as Kris reaches around and flicks a nipple with his thumb, then the same to the other; Conor knows he’s sensitive there, and probably more so rubbing against the lace that still covers them. Sometimes he likes to attach clamps there and tug on them gently when he’s fucking Brian to get him to squeeze all around his dick, and he’s apparently doing the same now if Kris’ lack of English skills are any indication. “She - I - squeezing, _fuck,”_ Kris confirms.

“Do better than that,” Sid demands. “Or I’ll make you step aside and watch while I try her pussy myself. So I’ll ask again, tell me how she feels.”

Kris says something in French that doesn’t sound particularly submissive to Conor’s ears although he can’t understand the words. “Tight,” he spits out in English. “Like a - vise? The way she rolls her hips - “ More French, and now Kris grabs around Brian’s ribs and manhandles him, slamming him downwards, the sharp slap of skin as Kris fucks up into him in earnest. Brian has never been quiet - Kayla loves it when he’s loud - and he’s not shy about it here, moaning and chanting out _yes_ and _more._ There’s another burst of French from Kris, obviously directed to Sid, and Conor recognizes the last question. S'il vous plaît - _please._

“Mmm,” Sid says, like he’s considering something, then shakes his head. “No. Stop. Now.”

Kris’ jaw drops open, but he _does_ obey, squeezing Brian’s side to still him on his lap. “Sid?” he asks, tone pleading. Brian bites his lip, but stays still without squirming. _Good,_ Conor wants to praise, but he doesn’t.

“You’ll get to come,” Sid says. “But only if I’m inside you. So if you think you’re close, you’d better stop fucking her and get over here.”

“But - “

“You’ve had your fun,” Sid says sharply. “I haven’t forgotten your sass from earlier. So you can either get over here and come on my dick, or you can not come at all.” This sends Kris scrambling, and Brian lifts off him so he can do so. There’s an obvious pout on Brian’s face - real, not for show, Conor knows - and Sid nudges Conor. “Shears, mind taking care of your girl? I didn’t mean to leave her unsatisfied.”

“Of course,” Conor says, trying his best to sound magnanimous and not eager. Like fucking Brian is a favor to Sid and not something he’s wanted to do all damn night. “Sweetie, you need it?”

“Yes Sir,” Brian says immediately, and Conor knows that’s probably genuinely true. If there’s one thing he hates, it’s to be ignored or left alone.

Conor can’t help but touch as he heads over where Brian is splayed out, chest down on the table, ass out and presented. He trembles a little as Conor smooths his hand over the skin, marvels at the feel of the muscle under the stockings and lace. “You’re so beautiful like this. God, I just want to - “ Well, shit. Normally Conor tries hard not to let his height affect anything, but...the heels are going to present a problem, he can already tell. “Take your heels off so I can fuck your pretty pussy,” he says softly, meant for Brian’s ears only.

Brian kicks them off eagerly, and Conor looks up at a bitten-off, soft French curse. Directly across the table, Sid has Kris bent over the table, buried to the hilt inside him and rolling his hips in what must be a maddening tease. “Who do you belong to?” Sid demands. He catches sight of Conor watching and winks.

“Je suis votre dévoué,” Kris says, face buried in the table and arms extended in fists, clenched in what must be frustration. Still, his voice is calm. “Yours.”

It’s interesting, Conor thinks, to see Tanger like this. He has to be _made_ to submit, Conor realizes, and now that he has been, he seems just as pliable and sweet as Brian always is. He’s never had a sub like that. Maybe someday - 

A gusty sigh brings him back to reality. Brian still has his chest against the table, bent over for Conor and waiting patiently, but now he’s watching Kris get railed by Sid. His own hand is stretched out across the table and his hand is linked with Kris, fingers intertwined. They’re going to hold hands while they get fucked, and that - Conor thinks it’s sweet, but fuck if it isn’t kind of hot as well.

He doesn’t make Brian wait any longer, slides home without any warning, and Brian gives a long, satisfied groan. God, he is wet, even more so than normal, fucked open by Kris. Not a bad thing; he can go _hard,_ he knows, without having to worry about Brian walking funny the next day. “You like that, honey?” Conor asks him, starting to move in earnest, every thrust sending a shudder through Brian. “You like me fucking your wet cunt?”

“Yes,” Brian whimpers, hiding his face against the table. “Yes Sir, yes please Sir.”

A low hiss brings his attention back across the table; Sid has his hand buried in Kris’ beautiful hair, has it tugged up so Kris is watching them. “See what happens when you’re bad,” Sid admonishes. “Someone else gets to fuck your toy. Watch them, Tanger. _Watch.”_

“Sid,” Kris pants, but he doesn’t fight it, just keeps his eyes glued to Conor and Brian. There’s a glaze in his eyes that Conor’s never seen before; Kris Letang in subspace, who would have ever expected?

“You’re going to come,” Sid instructs, and even Conor shivers a little; fuck, his Dom voice is _so good._ “You’re going to come in the next ten seconds on my cock, or not at all, Tanger. Ten… nine… eight…”

Sid continues his countdown, and at _four_ Kris pulls out of Brian’s grip on his hand, rears up, shouts loud enough to wake the dead and comes, spurting on the table where it’s been cleared of their dinner plates. Sid holds him through it, murmuring sweet nonsense, and the whole scene - Brian in his lingerie, Sid and Kris across the table - is hot enough that Conor comes too, no warning. “Yes,” Brian moans. He doesn’t get to come himself, not with his cock cage, but every time Conor comes in his ass he acts like _he’s_ the one who orgasmed.

“Get up,” Conor instructs, and Brian - wobbly in subspace - pushes himself upright. Conor gently pulls him to the other side of the table and pushes him back down, right where Kris came. “Lick it off,” he says, and Brian obeys immediately, cleaning off the table with long broad swipes of his tongue.

Sid curses, and Conor thinks he’s coming too, maybe even at the sight of Brian licking up the come which is certainly an ego boost; _his_ sub, _his_ instructions, making _his_ captain get off. “Does she want more?” Sid asks, slightly out of breath. “I have more for her.” He pulls out, spins Kris around, and Conor can see the come leaking out of him, starting to drip down his thigh.

“She’d love to,” Conor says. “Sweetie?”

“Yes please,” Brian says.

Sid nods. “Go ahead,” he says, and Brian sinks to his knees, licking the trail of come from Kris’ thigh to his hole, and then plunging his tongue inside. Kris shouts, and Sid has to catch him and hold him still while he shudders and shivers.

“Too much,” Kris whines as Brian eats him out. “Sid - Sid - _Sir - !”_

Now _that’s_ new, Kris calling Sid that. Conor watches with fascination as Sid gently shushes him, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You can,” he says. “You can take it. I know you can. You can take anything.”

“Sid,” Kris moans, clinging to him and shaking with overstimulation as the wet sounds of Brian tonguing his hole never stop. Sid soothes him and lets it go on for a few minutes before gently reaching back and touching Brian’s shoulder. “Alright, pretty girl, that’s enough for him.”

“She’d do it for hours if you let her,” Conor says, as Brian sits back with a satisfied smile on his wet face. Now his lipstick is truly smeared to hell, and Kris’ hole is tinged red with it. Oh, fuck. What a night it’s been.

“I’ll have to remember that,” Sid says, keeping Kris bundled in his arms as Brian starts swaying on his knees, still under. “You all done, Shears?”

“All done. Aftercare?”

“Right.”

Sid’s shower is huge, easily accommodating four people, and Kris perks right back up from subspace. Brian will be down for awhile, but he’s alert enough to answer the questions that Kris peppers him with. “Aren’t you so frustrated?” he asks about Brian’s cock cage.

Brian shakes his head, finally free of the lingerie, sitting on a bench while Conor shampoos his hair. “Uh-uh,” he says. “Getting Shears off is better than any orgasm.” He leans back against Conor’s legs, smiling fondly up at him, which Conor returns in kind.

Kris snorts. “Do you even like orgasms?”

“Oh for sure,” Brian says. “You should see me when I get the cage off in the summer. That first day, oh man. But like, when I’m wearing it, my orgasms are just...unimportant, you know?”

“I definitely do _not_ know,” Kris says, and Sid swats him. “What? I would literally be in jail if I couldn’t orgasm for like eight months.”

“So you’re admitting I’m mentally stronger than you,” Brian says, a teasing note in his voice, and it startles a laugh out of both Conor and Sid.

Kris grumbles. “Guess I deserved that,” he says. “Maybe you’re not wrong.”

In Sid’s giant bed, Brian wants to be next to Kris, snuggling up on top of him. Conor has never seen the caretaking instincts that all Doms have in Kris Letang, but he curls an arm around Brian without complaint. “You really were pretty,” he tells Brian, kissing his temple. “I had a good time. Thanks, Dumo.”

“We can do it again sometime?” Brian asks. Conor meets Sid’s gaze atop where both their subs are tangled together, and they smile at each other.

“Maybe,” Sid says, but he’s not at all subtle. 

_Definitely_ is the real answer.


End file.
